Seeking
by DarkLightShades
Summary: Arc, Twilight of the Spirits: Darc finds out that his trials as the leader of the Drakyr aren't over yet. Contains hints of twincest and yuri.


WARNING!! This fanfic contains both twincest and yuri(or femme slash). Nothing explicit, mind you, but if either one of those aren't your cup of tea you'd better turn back now. However, for those of you who aren't squicked buy the idea of two brothers in love, this fanfic is for you.

This idea started out as an entirely non-serious one-shot. As I approached the end, however, I realised that instead of the shameless smut I was going to use, I could do something more plot-intensive and more in-character besides. So don't expect too much to happen between Darc and Kharg just yet, and expect a sequel some time in the (not so) near future.

**Seeking**

Dragon Bone Valley was just as cold as he remembered it. Darc rubbed his arms in a fruitless attempt to restore feeling in them. Aldrow never had weather like this, and his skirt and sandals were entirely unsuited to traipsing through snow. It didn't help that a gentle, but thick rain of snowflakes was obscuring his vision, confusing his sense of direction. A more poetic soul might have admired this perfect display of winter weather, but Darc just found the whole situation annoying.

He wasn't even sure why he was doing this. After his last visit he'd sworn he wouldn't come back, despite the Dragon Soul's predictions. Now it looked like he was going to prove the arrogant being right, and that grated on his nerves more then he cared to admit.

It had started shortly after the defeat of the Lord of the Black Abyss. With the Spirits and their mystical powers gone, most of the world was thrown into panic and chaos. Darc and his companions had decided that, after their ordeal in the floating castle, a short break was in order. At the very least it would give the rest of the Deimos a chance to calm down; there was no point in trying to unite them if they were too busy lamenting the loss of their magic to listen.

So they had split up, agreeing to meet again in two weeks to continue Darc's quest. Camellia had left to search out her tribe, or what was left of it after the humans had nearly wiped it out. Similarly, Volk claimed he wanted to search out another pack of Lupine on Ragnoth, the one his wife had originated from, so he could tell them of her death. Wanting to spend some time with Maru, Bebedora had followed the human boy back to Milmarna. Delma had offered to stay with Darc, claiming she had nothing better to do, but he had declined, saying he wanted some space to himself for a while. She had looked disappointed, but eventually decided to return to Orcoth to help rebuild it after the last human attack.

For the first time in weeks, Darc was finally on his own again. At first, he had exalted in the solitude, having been exposed to it most of his life while under Geedo's rule. He told himself he preferred it, that he didn't need anyone else, but after a few days he began to miss the presence of the others, having been working so closely together for so long.

The privacy he'd thought he'd craved had instead given him too much time to reflect. Often he found himself lost in thought, dredging up old memories of his life and analysing his actions over the past month. The more he thought, the more he became aware of a nagging sensation that something was missing.

At first he passed it of as the absence of his magic; the lack of its' familiar warmth under his skin was a distressing sensation. As time went on and it didn't dissipate, he figured he must have been missing the company of his friends more than he realised. Hoping to squelch the feeling before it got worse, he tracked down Volk in the wilderness of Nidellia, wanting to avoid the disorder that plagued the major settlements. Whatever his problem was, however, could not be solved by Volk's company, and eventually he bid the Lupine goodbye before the hollowness he felt became obvious.

He'd returned to the Pyron, who had chosen to stay with him when the others had split up, and pondered the mystery. Leaning comfortably against the creatures' soft fur, he tried to comprehend the reason for this sudden feeling of emptiness. Perhaps because he was already on Ragnoth, the cryptic words of the Dragon Soul had suddenly come back to him.

It had told him that, like the Wind Stone, he was incomplete, and he'd been so focused on his mission that he hadn't even noticed until there was noting else to distract him. Unlike the Wind Stone, which had found its' other half, he had not, and now that he realised it, he couldn't ignore it anymore. So here he was, blindly trudging his way through Dragon Bone Valley, once again so focused on the task at hand he'd forgotten the minor details such as warm clothing and the fact that he really had no idea where he was at the moment.

He brushed a few flakes of rapidly dissolving show from his hair, thoroughly disgusted with the whole situation. He relentlessly forged ahead, knowing he should probably retrace his steps and come back when it _wasn't _snowing but couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd come this far already; it wasn't in his nature to just give up. He also knew he wouldn't get any rest until he found out how to get rid of this stupid feeling, and he was certain the Dragon Soul would know what to do.

So absorbed in his thoughts, he didn't realise he'd arrived until he finally noticed he wasn't moving forward anymore. Although his mind hadn't known the way, his body did, and as soon as he'd stopped consciously thinking about it, it had guided him there. Making a face, he stepped into the cave, which wasn't noticeably warmer than the outside, but at least it was shelter from the wind and snow.

His footsteps echoed quietly in the sombre cavern, and like the last time he had visited he felt the air stir in response. Ancient things rested here, things that didn't enjoy being disturbed, and he irritably quelled the natural urge to run back out into the snow. He was the new leader of the Drakyr (whether he liked it or not); nothing here would harm him. As he approached the altar at the back, flanked by its' great stone guardians, the carving on the wall glowed briefly, its' eye changing to a shining circle of blue.

"You have returned," it intoned formally, the voice seeming to come from everywhere at once. In a lighter voice it added, "As I said you would."

"Don't rub it in," he growled back. He could feel its amusement through the sudden lightening on the atmosphere. He got the feeling that it knew he hadn't intended to come back here. The thought was somehow unsurprising and unsettling at the same time.

"You have a purpose here," it continued as if he hadn't said anything. "You wish to know what it is you are seeking."

Darc frowned, considering its words. That's exactly what it felt like, like he was looking for something without knowing what it was or why he needed it. "That's right," he told it unnecessarily, knowing it could probably have pulled the answer from his thoughts.

Although the carving was incapable of moving, he could have sworn it was smiling. "You have reached the first trial of the Drakyr leadership. You should be proud, you are quite young to have reached it so soon after taking the crown." Almost to itself it added, "Windalf was twenty four summers of age before he underwent the trial."

"So what is it?" Darc tapped his foot impatiently. Although he was interested in any information about his fathers' life, he was freezing, and the 'seeking' feeling the carving described was making him restless.

The Dragon Soul affected an air of surprise, "Surely you know at least some of the traditions of the Drakyr? Have you learned so little since you became their leader?"

It seemed to enjoy making fun at his expense, which was probably understandable since it didn't have any other sort of amusement here in the cave. Darc, however, was not pleased to be the cause of its entertainment. "Just tell me already."

"Ruling the Drakyr has always been a dual effort," it stated demurely. "You must find your intended mate."

There was silence.

"What!?"

"Your intended mate," it repeated, ignoring Darc's outburst. "The one person who is destined to complete you. Every bearer of the mark of Will has one, whether they lead the tribe or not."

"So you're saying," Darc said slowly, "That I have to find this person or I'm going to feel like this forever?"

"Finding your soul mate is one of the many trials you will endure as leader of the tribe," it replied primly. "It is a mark of status, not a punishment."

"Speak for yourself," Darc groaned, considering the implications of finding a mate. He was only seventeen after all, wasn't that a bit too young to be taking on a life partner? "How will I find this person?"

"It wouldn't be much of a trial if you knew that," it told him archly. "But I can tell you that you have already encountered this person before. Spent considerable time around them in fact. A single touch will reveal this person to you."

"A touch?"

"You'll understand when the time comes. Now go complete the trial, and return here when you are finished." The eye faded from existence, leaving Darc alone with his thoughts and the cryptic set of instructions. At least the possibilities had been narrowed considerably; apart from Geedo he hadn't spent much time with others while growing up. That meant it must be someone he'd met since her death just over a month ago.

Delma was the most likely person; at the beginning he'd harboured a small crush on the pretty Orcon girl. Although it had since become simple friendship, he suspected it might have become more over time. Sure that he'd solved the puzzle already, he left the cave to return to the Pyron, not noticing the brief illumination of the carvings' eye as it watched him go in amusement.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Put your backs into it!" Delma snarled at a group of Orcon as they struggled to return Gorma's trailer back to its' original position. The sage stood worriedly nearby, wincing every time his house was almost dropped by the well-meaning helpers.

Darc watched from a distance, looking at Delma in particular and wondering if she was the one he was looking for. Her unique colouring set her apart from the others, and there was a controlled power in her movements that commanded respect. By Deimos standards she was considered to be quite attractive, and although her hard exterior could be somewhat off-putting, he knew it was only a facade to protect herself from hurt. If she was the one, maybe this whole ordeal wouldn't be so bad after all.

He walked forward, unnoticed by the crowd as they watched gleefully to see if the trailer would fall. He stood unobtrusively to one side and waited while the Orcon finally managed to right the trailer, much to Gorma's relief. Deprived of their amusement, the rest of the tribe eventually moved away, returning to their tasks, leaving Delma to admire her work. She dusted her hands as though she had been the one doing the lifting, and graciously accepted the old sage's thanks. She was obviously enjoying being in a position where she got to order everyone around.

"Delma," he called after Gorma had finally vanished into his house to assess the damage. Startled, the She-Orc whirled, tensing as though she expected to be attacked. When she saw who it was, she was surprised, but pleased.

"Darc," she greeted with a smile. "What are you doing here?"

He wondered weather he should tell her about the Dragon Soul's quest, but decided against it. He prefer not to spread around the fact that he was in the market for a mate, particularly if it turned out that Delma wasn't the one he was looking for.

"Just visiting," he said casually, "How are things going here?"

"Great," she said enthusiastically, motioning to Gorma's newly positioned trailer. "Pretty soon there won't be any trace of the humans' handiwork left."

"Good," Darc nodded curtly, but his thoughts were struggling to figure out how to test his theory. The Dragon Soul had said a touch would be enough to reveal his intended mate, but by nature the Deimos weren't particularly tactile creatures. There was no way for him to do it without being obvious or having the action being taken the wrong way, so he made up his mind to be as unsubtle as possible. He was less likely to get hit that way.

"Hey Delma," he began uncomfortably. "Just hold still for a moment, I want to try something."

She looked unsure, but obediently held still. "Sure."

Hesitantly, Darc reached out with his human hand and laid it gently on her shoulder. He could feel the sleek, marble-like texture of her skin and was uncomfortably aware of how close she was. He fought down a blush and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. However, nothing seemed to be happening at all. He didn't feel different or see fireworks or any of the other things he imagined would happen.

He frowned, sure that it had been Delma that the Ancient dragon was talking about. "Thanks," he said briefly before turning and walking away before she could react and decide to kill him.

Delma stared blankly at Darc's retreating form, wondering what on earth had just transpired between them and whether she should pull out her claw and stab him or ask him to come back and tell her what was wrong. Fortunately for him, he was already gone before she could get her stunned mind to perform either of those actions, and she was left gazing uncomprehendingly at the space he had just vacated.

"What the hell?" she asked, but received no answer.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The Pianta Island was uncomfortably close to Dilzweld territory, but Darc hoped that, without their tyrannical leader, he wouldn't encounter any major problems from the humans. He had dropped Camellia here a few days ago to find what was left of her tribe, but was unsure of where to start looking for her. Leaving the Pyron to happily munch on plants at a small marsh, the Deimos hybrid cautiously entered the dense forest that seemed to cover the whole island.

The strange wood was more than a little disquieting. The trees seemed uncannily alive, and the area gave the impression of a carefully tended garden that had been neglected for too long. However, there was a carefully cleared path –one he suspected was there to stop people treading on the plant life rather than guide– and he followed it, hoping it would take him to the Sage.

Camellia wouldn't be his first choice for a mate. Although he could admit the Sage was undeniably beautiful, he wasn't as admiring of her clingy and self-centred nature. He was beginning to dislike the idea that he couldn't choose a person on what _he_ thought were the best qualities, but assumed that whomever the Dragon Soul had chosen, there was a reason for it.

The winding path eventually brought him to what seemed to be a village, or what was left of one. Tree trunks had been hollowed out to form small shelters from the elements. Mushroom tables and exotically shaped trees were strewn about, a testament to the once peaceful lifestyle that had once existed here. Now the village was empty, not even animals remained to witness the destruction. There were bullet holes in the trees, bushes had been torn down and in one place it looked as though someone had tried to start a fire. Personal items had been discarded, and there were a few telltale patches where rain hadn't quite washed away the blood. It was sad, but not entirely unexpected by Darc, who knew better than most what the humans were capable of.

In the quiet of the forest he suddenly became aware of a sniffling sound. He curiously followed it back to its source and found Camellia's sorrowful form huddled inside one of the hollows. She was cradling something small in her arms, but he couldn't see what it was. The sage jumped when she caught sight of his outline, but quickly relaxed when she saw who it was.

"Master Darc," she vainly wiped at the tear tracks running down her face. He was surprised, not having realised she'd been crying. He wondered if he should leave, but she rose to her feet, smoothing invisible creases from her dress. "Look at what the humans have done to my beautiful village," she said sadly, her voice wavering with grief. "I can't believe its' really gone. All my friends…"

Darc suddenly found himself wrapped in Camellia's desperate embrace as she was overcome by her sorrow. Fresh tears leaked from her eyes and flowed down her face and onto his skin as she sobbed into his chest. He wasn't sure how to react to the outburst. On one hand he generally disliked being clung to, as the Sage often did, but he also couldn't bring himself to pull away while she was so unhappy. Eventually he returned the hug, muttering vaguely reassuring words in her ear.

After a while she calmed down and pulled away, embarrassed to show such undignified weakness in front of another. "I'm sorry…"

"Forget it," Darc told her firmly, fully intending to do so himself. After being ridiculed for his soft human heart, such acts made him uncomfortable. Instead he tried to distract her. "Are you going to be alright?"

Her face contorted, and for a moment he thought he'd said the wrong thing, but she forced a smile. "I believe so. I knew all along that this is what I was returning to, but that's not the same as seeing it for real." She looked at him, perplexed, "You came here… to check on me?" He nodded, thinking it simplest, and was rewarded by a more genuine smile. "Thank you, but I should be alright from now on. I know a few places where those who escaped might have gone. I shall continue my search for survivors."

"Alright," he said, relieved that she was acting more like her usual self. "Then I'll be back next week as planned."

He returned to the Pyron, who grinned widely at him when he came into view. "What are you looking at?" he asked the monster, who just looked at him in reply. Darc suddenly became aware of the wet patch Camellia had left on his skin and hurriedly wiped it off, making a face. At least he didn't have to worry about her being his mate; she'd held on for quite some time and he hadn't felt anything unusual. However, that also meant he was quickly running out of likely candidates. He climbed up on the Pyron's back, conscious of its cheerful demeanour.

"You're enjoying this far too much," he told it grouchily as he settled himself for the flight to Milmarna.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

It was midday in Milmarna when Darc arrived. Travelling around the world was beginning to mess with his time sense; he was sure he'd seen nothing but daylight for almost a full 24 hours. He was perched up a tree on the outskirts of the town rather than in it, knowing the humans wouldn't react well to his presence.

He supposed it was a sign of how desperate he was, the fact that he was trying this, but he was rapidly running out of ideas as to the identity of his mysterious mate. For a short time, he'd considered seeking out Volk again, but his last visit with the lupine suggested that he wasn't the one. He wasn't sure if Bebedora even counted, being a monster instead of a Deimos, but he was willing to try anything at this point. The empty ache in his soul was getting worse, not better, and he was becoming sick of it.

Unfortunately, while Bebedora could be mistaken for a human, there was no way _he_ was going to pull off such a deception, and he had no way of contacting her to get her to leave the town. So he stayed where he was, considering what he was going to do, while fate suddenly decided to hand him the answer.

"Brother please, this is unseemly," a plaintive voice called, easily audible from where Darc say. He glanced up indifferently, and then did a double take as he caught sight of Maru and Bebedora amongst a sea of young humans. Maru, dressed as he normally was, fitted right in with the ragged urchins he was entertaining. In contrast, Bebedora looked uncomfortably overdressed in the searing heat of the sun, although it didn't seem to affect her at all. There was one other who looked out of place, a young female dressed in expensive silks and jewellery. Her clothing was suited to less physical games than the one the children were urging her to join it.

"Take off your headdress Foh, you don't want to ruin it," Maru urged, seeming to be having a fine time.

"Unlike you _brother,_ I have no desire to show off my skin like a regular commoner." Her comment had less impact than intended as the aforementioned headdress was stolen by one of the bolder children at Maru's direction. She shrieked in surprise before chasing after the thief, much to the amusement of the others as they ran circles around the group. Bebedora's head did an impossible 360 degree swivel as she tried to keep them in her sights, impressing the few children who had seen it and compelling them to try replicating the feat themselves. Rather than single her out for her strangeness, they seemed to have taken the monster girl in stride; though Darc suspected it had a lot to do with Maru's presence.

"This is a game?" Bebedora asked uncertainly.

"No, the game hasn't started yet. This is just…fun," Maru informed her.

"Fun?" she repeated, but was interrupted by Foh's sudden capture of the robber. With a prim manner that looked ridiculous for one so young, the brown haired girl gracefully replaced her headdress, glaring at everyone nearby for not helping her.

Maru grinned, "Now we can start. Everyone knows hide-and-seek, right?" There was a chorus of alternating cheers and groans. "Who wants to be 'IT'?"

The furious argument over who would get the exalted position raged while Bebedora looked confused. "'IT'?"

"As your friend is the guest, maybe she should get to go first," Foh suggested, etiquette having been drilled into her from a young age. The others, who wanted to see what else the strange new girl was capable of, enthusiastically promoted her idea, and the monster was suddenly confronted by a sea of expectant faces.

Seeing her problem, Maru hastily intervened, "She doesn't know how to play. The rest of you can have a head start while I tell her."

There was a flurry activity as the children scattered in every direction, vying for the best hiding places. Maru quickly explained the concept of the game –count to 100, come find everyone– before hurrying off himself before all the good spots were taken.

Dubiously, Bebedore began to count aloud, hands over where her eyes would be if they weren't hidden under her hat. This was the opportunity Darc had been waiting for, although he was at loath to do it. Stripping off his armour, he dropped into the water that the town was built on and clumsily swam over to the walkway Bebedora was standing on.

Swimming was not something he was particularly skilled at. By nature, the Drakyr hated water because their wings made it almost impossible to stay afloat. Darc had only learned by necessity because Geedo, having discovered this weakness, had delighted in magically levitating him to the middle of a lake before dropping him in as a punishment.

Hoping there weren't any nasty surprises swimming beneath the surface, Darc managed to make it to the platform. He kept low so that any passing humans wouldn't notice him, and carefully positioned himself as close to the monster as he could.

"Bebedora," he hissed just loud enough to be heard over her counting.

She paused, lowering her arms and peering in the direction his voice had come from. "Darc?" she knelt down on the edge of the platform. "Acid yellow of irritation, threatened by the smoky grey of frustration. Why are you wet?"

He blinked at the odd jump in her thought process, but shrugged it off. "Long story, but I was looking for you. I need you to give me your hand for a moment."

Thankfully, Bebedora didn't see the need to question his motives, and dutifully offered her small palm. Gripping the underside of the walkway to stop himself from sinking, Darc briefly gripped it. He then let go, partially relieved that nothing had happened. Maru might have developed feelings for the strange monster, but Darc found her too much of an enigma, and too childlike besides.

"What are you doing?" A sudden voice startled them both. Bebedora looked up to see the Foh looking bemusedly at her. "Aren't you supposed to be counting? Didn't Maru tell you what to do?"

Bebedora didn't know how to respond, feeling indecision for the first time. "I saw something," she finally replied. "Shouldn't you be hiding?"

"I thought you could use some help. My brother is a master at this game, and I know he won't play fair." She wandered over and glanced down to where Bebedora had been looking. There was nothing there, other than a slight ripple where the water had been disturbed. She forgot about it as she turned back to Bebedora. "Come on, it's been long enough. We'll go look for them together."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Darc was not having a particularly good day. He was beginning to suspect this stupid quest was nothing more than the Dragon Soul's way of messing with his head. He was out of candidates, soaking wet, and once more being smirked at by the overly amused Pyron.

He flicked water at it. "Oh shut up," he told it, despite the fact it wasn't making any noise. It danced away from the water as though it were deadly, but never ceased its' incessant smiling. Sighing, Darc proceeded to wring all possible water out of his skirt and hair, thoroughly irritated that all his hard work had so far come to nothing. At least in the warm summer air he would dry off quickly, but that would only solve one of his problems. He was still out of ideas about who to go to next.

Unless, of course, the Soul had given him the wrong instructions, and he'd already found that person without knowing. It honestly wouldn't surprise him at this point. The ancient dragon seemed to delight in being intentionally oblique when giving out information. It was time to go back and visit it, and figure out what he was doing wrong.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"This isn't working," Darc told it a few hours later, having travelled back to Ragnoth on the Pyron. "There's something you haven't told me."

"I've told you everything you need to know," the carving replied archly. "Your the one who isn't interpreting the instructions correctly."

Darc blinked, wondering what it meant. "I've tried everyone I know…"

"Wrong," it boomed, taking delight in the way the Deimos hybrid jumped. "You have tried every _deimos_ you know." It paused before adding, "And one monster, but that's not the point."

"You mean my soul mate might be human?" Darc made a face, and if the Dragon Soul hadn't been just a spirit possessing a carving it would have slapped its' forehead.

"Of course. How did you think you came into being?"

The thought hadn't occurred to Darc. "Oh."

"'Oh' indeed," the carving mocked. "Windalf felt much the same way I assure you, but the test never lies. He managed to accept his destiny, just as you will," the words had an air of prophecy that made Darc uncomfortable.

A thought occurred to him, "It's Lillia, right?" He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner. He'd never been able to define exactly what he'd felt for the human girl, though at one point he thought it might have been love. It seemed so obvious now.

The Dragon Soul seemed less convinced, and said nothing except, "Why don't you go find out? And try to keep an open mind this time."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Cragh Island was exactly how Darc remembered it. Unlike the rest of the world, the people here had never used spirit stones, so their way of life hadn't needed to change when the spirits had moved on. He found it kind of reassuring that, even with the turmoil that everywhere else was facing, this little island would always be a peaceful haven for human and deimos alike. That was one of the reasons Lillia had chosen to stay. Sick of wars and fighting and hatred, she'd elected to remain on the island for a while and help rebuild it after Dilzweld's attack.

He wandered into the village as unobtrusively as possible, not wanting to announce his presence to Lillia just yet. He looked around, wondering where to start looking for her, before realising he didn't need to. The haunting music of her ortena guided him to the small dock on the village beach, and he found her sitting with her back to him, staring out at the ocean.

Well, perhaps not staring, he mused. Lillia knew this song so well she often played it with her eyes closed so she could lose herself in the music, like he guessed she was doing now. He walked up softly behind her, pausing to listen to her music. She was singing softly to herself, and he caught enough of it to realise it was the same one she'd sung in the Orcon dungeon.

Darc hesitated, not sure if he should interrupt her and get this over with, or wait for her to finish and put it off as long as possible. He wasn't sure what he was going to tell the human girl. After all, he strongly asserted that he wasn't at all sentimental, and coming all this way to see her would be interpreted as such. On the other hand, Lillia seemed to have some knack for reading him, and she might guess that he had a more serious purpose here, and convince him to tell her. He wasn't sure he wanted anyone to know, not even Lillia who was perhaps the only person who wouldn't use it against him.

As he watched her, he suddenly had an idea that would solve his problems. Reaching out with his human hand, Darc softly laid his fingertips against the side of her neck, the only part of exposed skin he could reach. Lillia was so absorbed in her playing she didn't notice, much to his relief. However, there was no reaction at the touch; she wasn't the one. He frowned, he'd been sure he was right this time. He quickly retreated from sight before she came out of her trance. With luck, she'd never realise he was there.

It was almost a minute later before Lillia's song faded into silence. Her head swivelled around, as she was suddenly hit by the certainty that there was someone who wanted her attention.

"Hello?" she called, wondering if they had wandered off while she was lost in her music, but there was no answer.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The once great capital of Cathena was in ruins. Darkham's weapon had done its' business and left the city a smoking shadow of its' former glory. Even so, it seemed there were quite a large number of survivors; maybe they'd managed to evacuate the city before disaster hit?

It had taken him the better part of half an hour to decide what to do after leaving Cragh Island. He'd been so sure that Lillia would be the one that he hadn't bothered to think ahead any further than that. After wracking his brains for some time, he finally realised that the only other people he'd spent some time with had been Kharg's group while they'd fought together in the floating castle. It had then taken him a while to remember exactly where they'd gone to after the battle was over.

Camellia, in a rare moment of civility, had asked Tatjana about where she would go now that Dilzweld was finished. It had taken a lot of thinking before he recalled her replying that she wanted to go back to Cathena and help out anyone who survived. So he'd ordered the Pyron back to Aldrow, almost falling off as he tried not to fall asleep. He'd been awake for far too long and it was beginning to show, but the need to end this quest drove him onward without rest.

In the bustling confusion of what remained of the city, he'd managed to swipe a long hooded robe that covered his horns and scales. As long as he kept his head down, he could be mistaken for just another desperate survivor among the crowds. He began his search for Tatjana, hoping he'd remembered her words correctly. Even in its' current state, the city was a maze of rubble and wreckage, and being surrounded by so many humans was beginning to make him uncomfortable. He was almost ready to give up when he finally spotted her deep in discussion with a dark haired woman. They were standing next to the remains of a giant palace of a building that seemed to have survived the destruction better than most.

"You should tear it down," Tatjana was saying flatly. "It's a symbol of the world council's failure to look beyond its own borders and protect its people."

"Don't be ridiculous," the dark haired woman replied vehemently. "This is the only building that had any chance of being rebuilt, the only sign of familiarity to a people who have lost everything!"

"Things can't go on the way they have Savina," the blonde woman said, her tone softening slightly. "The people must get used to change. You can start over; make the Council better than it was before. Let this be the first step."

Savina sighed, her face grave. "You're right of course," to Darc's surprise, her hand reached out and briefly twined with Tatjana's. "We should go find a crew to get started on it right away. The sooner the ground is cleared, the sooner we can start rebuilding."

They began to walk towards Darc, who realised this was his chance. He wondered if Tatjana was still a possibility, as unless he was mistaken it seemed she had already found herself a mate. Still, he wasn't going to take any chances. Keeping his eyes on the ground, he walked briskly towards the pair, who seemed more absorbed with each other than anything else. At the right moment, he brushed against Tatjana, gripping her wrist so briefly she probably didn't notice. Satisfied that there was no reaction, he muttered a brief apology and hurried away before she could get a good look at him.

Tatjana watched his retreating back, wondering if the familiarity in the man's voice was real or just her imagination. She hadn't realised she'd stopped to stare until Savina's insistent tug on her arm.

"Something wrong?" The Milmarnian representative asked, soulful dark eyes concerned. Tatjana had to resist the urge to melt under that gaze.

"No, its' nothing," she replied, attempting to sound more like her usual brisk self. They walked on, once again oblivious to everything but each other.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Paulette was not amused. "What do you mean it isn't working?" she demanded in a voice that reminded Kharg of Loyd's when, as a child, he'd neglected his sword practice. He was caught between wincing and smiling at her tone.

"Ganz said it needs a new rear engine, otherwise it won't be able to fly again."

"Well where are we going to get one of those?" Her tone was exasperated. It seemed that every time they solved one persons' problems, three more would take their place, and she was beginning to wish that they would show a but of initiative and fix it themselves while she and Kharg concentrated on solving the energy crisis. And now _this_ had to happen.

"Well, apparently there was supposed to be one on board, but we searched Big Owl top to bottom and didn't find it." Even with the two of them working on it, the search had taken the better part of an hour. Kharg had come out of the ordeal covered in grease stains and somewhat wiser about the inner workings of airships, but the emergency engine was nowhere to be found.

"There isn't anything up at the Scarrpe Plateau we can use?" Kharg shook his head and they both lapsed back into deep thought. Suddenly, Paulette snapped her fingers, "I know! It probably fell out when Lillia first crashed it in Dragon Bone valley."

Kharg looked dubious, "I don't know Paulette. We could have lost it anywhere."

"Well since you can't get anywhere else you'll have to try it. Otherwise we won't be able to pick up the others next week."

Kharg looked at her suspiciously, "What's all this 'you' stuff. Aren't you coming?"

She smiled at him sweetly, "Somebody needs to make sure things are ok here while you're gone, right?" He suddenly had a flashback about how, as children, Paulette had always managed to convince him to do all her most hated chores, using exactly that voice. He sighed, knowing there wouldn't be any way to convince her otherwise.

"Fine, I'll go look, but don't expect any miracles. Even if it's there, that valley is _huge_," she just waved him off, still smiling, as he went to grab a warmer coat. He clearly remembered his last visit there, and wasn't about to freeze to death for a stupid airship part.

In the meanwhile, Paulette headed in the opposite direction, towards the refinery. She wanted to check exactly how much longer their small supply of power would last and, with winter coming on soon, how desperately they needed a replacement source. She barely made it ten feet before she was waylaid by Duncan.

"Paulette, I'm glad I caught you. We've got another small problem."

She groaned, suddenly wondering if Kharg hadn't gotten the better deal after all. "What now?"

He smiled slightly at her theatrics. "We've got another band of robbers skulking around outside town. I was hoping you'd lead a few members of the Defence Corps and 'convince' them to leave."

"Sure Duncan, just give me a few minutes to get ready and I'll be right there." He nodded briefly before returning to the tavern that housed the Defence Corps office. She was about to follow him when she felt a soft tap on her shoulder. Normally, she'd be surprised that someone would be able to get that close without her noticing, but in her current weary state she couldn't bring herself to care.

The redhead turned, ready to be bombarded by yet another problem she would have to fix. "Yes, what…?" she paused; realising there was no one there. She looked around but there was absolutely no sight of another presence nearby. _How odd_, she thought, _I must be more tired that I thought_

Forgetting about the incident almost immediately, she headed down to the tavern herself, not noticing the shadowy for that perched on the roof of the house she'd just been standing next to.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Need to make sure things are ok here," Kharg mimicked Paulette's sweet tone. "Yeah right."

From a distance, the Valley had seemed calm and peaceful, but the moment he'd crossed its' borders a blizzard had formed from nowhere and threatened to knock him over with its' intensity. He got the feeling that he was completely unwelcome here, and he promised himself that next time Paulette had one of her bright ideas he wouldn't get drawn into it.

There was no way he'd be able to find the engine part in this. Snow was coming down thickly, blinding him to all but the few feet in front of him. He was about to turn back and tell Paulette they were out of luck when, in a short lull in the storm, he caught sight of another struggling figure a short distance away. Whoever it was didn't look like they were dressed for the atrocious weather –from what Kharg could see, they had an awful lot of exposed skin– and it looked like they were heading deeper into the valley rather than out of it. There wasn't much chance of finding shelter that way, and Kharg decided he should go help the poor soul out before they froze to death.

"Hey!" he tried to call over the wind, but the words were carried away almost before they left his mouth. Giving up on that method, he began trudging towards the other, fighting the wind so as not to be blown off course. Despite that, he managed to close the distance rather quickly, as it seemed the other was being slowed by the cold. Through the veil of snow he caught sight of dark hair and a splash of red cloth against stark white. This failed to ring any bells of familiarity as he finally managed to get close enough to get the persons' attention.

"Hey," he repeated, catching the others' arm with one gloved hand. The person turned, regarding him with surprised ruby eyes, and for an instant time froze as they stared in mutual recognition.

"Darc? What the hell…?"

"What do you think you're…?"

They both paused, each wanting to be heard first.

Finally, Darc growled, "Let go of me!"

Kharg, having forgotten his light grip on Darc's arm dropped it as if burned. The moment of peace was broken as they sprang apart, falling into familiar battle stances. Kharg fumbled for the sword he'd neglected to bring, while Darc reached for his with arms too numb to use it. Realising he was weapon-less, Kharg lunged for his twin, knocking him off balance and sending them both tumbling into the snow. The blade ended up trapped beneath them, digging uncomfortably into Darc's back while he was pinned by Kharg's weight. It wasn't his only weapon, however, and he tried to deliver a vicious punch with his clawed arm. With Deimos quick reflexes, Kharg managed to dodge the worst of it and the blow glanced off his cheekbone.

He was hardly prepared for what came with it, however. The moment Darc's skin had connected with his it felt like he's been given an electric shock. His heart jolted and painfully skipped a beat, but at the same time his skin tingled almost pleasantly. He jumped back reflexively, rolling off Darc he touched his cheek where he'd been hit, wondering if Darc had used magic, despite the fact that there were no more spirit stones.

From the look of things, Darc was even worse of then he was. He gripped his arm tightly to his chest, a pained expression on his face. After a moment, he looked up at his twin with an expression of such mixed feelings that Kharg didn't know how to decipher it.

"It's you," the Deimos muttered, more to himself than Kharg, and the human continued to stare, having no idea what was going on. Darc looked uncharacteristically lost, and Kharg was even more confused about what could make his arrogant twin look so unnerved. For some reason, he was tempted to reach out and see if the unusual shock would happen again.

However, Darc's bewilderment was quickly covered by his usual irate self, and Kharg was amazed by how quickly the other could shift moods. The Deimos jumped to his feet, his tired body fuelled by anger, and grabbing the other by the arm. Kharg suddenly found himself being dragged along in his twins' wake, unsure if he should be resisting or not. The immediate threat was over -of that he was certain- but Darc's abrupt change wasn't reassuring and he suddenly realised that he was being guided back into the valley, not out of it like he'd intended.

He was about to abject when all of a sudden the storm's fury abated as they stepped into a cave that had been invisible from the outside. Still reeling from the abrupt change of scenery, he didn't even think of breaking Darc's grip as they approached a magnificent stone carving of a dragon etched on the back wall. Two enormous statues, also dragons, flanked it on either side, both looking unsettlingly realistic.

"You," Darc snarled, apparently addressing the carving. "Come out here and explain this!"

Kharg gave his brother a look normally reserved for the mentally unstable, and was about to ask him what he was doing when a flash of blue light caught his eye. The eye of the carving glowed steadily, and a rumbling voice filled the room. "You have completed the first part of the test," it intoned in a voice that caused Kharg's hand to stray to where his sword usually rested.

"You can't be serious. He's…" Darc tried to think of an appropriate word to describe how he felt. It wasn't the fact that Kharg was another male that he objected to, or even that they were brothers. Among the Deimos, children were born by magical means, not biological ones, so gender or familial ties didn't mean that same thing it did to humans. It was just a matter of how he felt about his twin personally.

Of all the people he had tested, he had liked, or at least felt indifferent towards. Delma and Camellia both had their particular charms, and even Bebedora was a strong ally and loyal to his cause. He felt mostly indifferent towards Tatjana, even with her former connection Dilzweld, and seeking out Paulette had been more of an act of desperation than anything else. He had considered the possibility of his intended mate being male, but as he had already spent time around Volk before seeking out the Dragon Soul and had felt nothing, and knowing the humans' own rules about relationships he hadn't bothered seeking out Maru or Ganz.

Kharg, however, was another matter entirely. As far as Darc was concerned, he and his twin were enemies, each leading their chosen race in a battle to decide who was strongest. They could never hope to put aside their differences because that would mean denying the principals they had been brought up to believe as 'truth'. It would mean tearing down their own self-conceptions and renounce everything they had been taught.

And neither of them were prepared to do that just yet.

In the silence left by Darc, the dragon spoke again, "He is the one chosen to join you. This is the destiny of those who bear the mark of Will." Its voice held a condescending note as it reminded Darc of his duty. Although the Deimos renounced the so called 'civilisation' of humans, there did exist a small, barely acknowledged code of honour among them, one that usually only extended to their own kind. This code was generally derived from that of the ancient Deimos, the monstrously powerful creatures of legend, and breaking it was the closest thing the deimos had to sacrilege in their chaotic beliefs.

Darc, however, wasn't ready to give in so easily. "There has to be some other way, some other person who can do it?"

The eye of the Dragon carving glowed mischievously, "Perhaps you do not believe he is worthy?" Darc sensed a sudden surge of power from the altar, and a quick glance at Kharg showed his twin felt it too. He got the feeling that he wouldn't like what was going to happen next. "Maybe a test is in order." With that final statement the eye glowed once more before vanishing completely. A deafening crash from behind them made both brothers jump, and with a sinking realisation they realised the entrance to the cave had been blocked.

"Now what?" Kharg asked, not entirely sure what was going on, or whether he even wanted to know. Darc on the other hand had a _very_ good idea of what was coming. A small, barely perceptible shift in the air announced that his guess was right, and without even turning around he shoved Kharg out of the way before ducking himself. The blow the now living dragon statue had aimed at them whistled harmlessly though the air.

"What the-?" Kharg stumbled back but recovered quickly enough to dodge the next strike from the other dragon.

Darc expertly turned to face the next threat, but found that there wasn't one. Both dragons were focused entirely on his twin, who was hard pressed to avoid them both. Unfortunately, unlike Darc's battle to win the right to lead the Drakyr, Kharg was weapon-less, magic-less and completely unprepared. A small part of Darc's mind noted that Kharg was doing quite well considering the circumstances, but that part was quickly squashed in favour of evaluating what he should do next.

On one hand, the Deimos part of him wanted to sit back and laugh at the human's misfortune, allowing the dragons to have their sport before messily ripping their victim apart as they had once tried to do to him. Of course he wouldn't actually let them kill Kharg; even if their family tie had meant nothing he would hardly let any defenceless being face these monsters alone.

And then there was the small flicker of some indefinable emotion that clenched his heart when he saw Kharg miss a step and stumble. The emotion that didn't even allow him to stop and think before he exploded into action, bringing his sword to bear with a kind of ferocity he didn't often experience. The dragons were so occupied with their prey that they didn't even notice Darc's approach before the deimos-hybrid was on them, stabbing and slicing every weak point with a practiced ease.

Less than thirty seconds later it was over. Both dragons lay motionless on the floor, their brightly coloured skins fading to grey as they returned to stone. Darc was breathing heavily, wondering where his sudden vicious assault had come from, while Kharg stared at him with something close to awe on his face.

"Er…thanks."

Darc snorted, re-sheathing his sword. "Whatever."

With a short magical hiss, the Dragons returned to their pervious positions on either side of the altar, but after a short interval it became obvious that the Dragon Soul hadn't. The entrance to the cave also remained closed, and Darc impatiently wondered what was going on.

"You've made your point already. Open the door." Silence was his only answer, and he wondered if by interfering with the test he'd somehow caused them to fail.

"Maybe the test isn't over," Kharg suggested, picking himself up off the ground. He winced as one ankle violently protested the movement, but tried not to show it as he approached his brother.

"Or maybe it's just doing this to be annoying," Darc's jibe didn't have the intended effect of bring the Soul out of its hiding place. Unlike during every other visit he'd made, he could no longer feel the tangible presence of the Dragon Soul. It was like it had departed completely, and he didn't think that was a good thing for either of them.

He caught himself, _either of them?_ Why should he have to look out for his brother when he could focus on getting _himself_ out of this? There was something wrong with him, of that he was sure. By all rights he should have finished his fight with Kharg, proving once and for all that the Deimos were superior. Resignedly he realised that such a battle would be meaningless if Kharg were at a disadvantage like he was now, with no weapon to defend himself, and no special abilities that could put him on even terms with Deimos strength.

"So what are these things?" Kharg had wandered over to the statues and was inspecting them curiously. He ran a finger lightly across the wings of one with a reverence that Darc thought to be unusual for a human, without the typical greed and desire for power.

Darc shrugged, "Something used to test our ancestors' power. That's all I know." Again, he had to catch himself before revealing too much. Kharg was supposed to be his enemy; revealing the secrets of the Drakyr could prove to be a fatal mistake.

"Our ancestors," Kharg repeated, and his twin was surprised that there was none of the usual denial Kharg had for his Deimos heritage. He'd though he knew his brother - at least all the important things he'd need to be able to beat him in battle. Learning that Kharg was someone more than just an opponent was somewhat disquieting for Darc. He didn't _want_ to have anything to do with Kharg, or anything else related to his human side, but here in this cave, with on one else around and no expectations on them, he found that his natural empathy for people told him that Kharg's company was somewhat… nice. In fact, had circumstances been different he was certain they could have been…

With a sudden start he realised what was going on. "So that's your game," he smirked at the carving. The Dragon Soul was hoping that by leaving them together he and Kharg could work out their differences. Well it wasn't going to work, he assured himself. Kharg didn't realise what this was all about, and Darc certainly wasn't about to tell him. If he found some way out of the cave then he could forget about this whole ordeal and leave the continent for good. Of course, that wouldn't solve his original problem. The empty ache of loneliness that had subsided with Kharg's touch was slowly starting to come back.

Determined not to let it get the best of him, he quickly strode over to the entrance of the cave and examined it, hoping to find some way to remove the block. The barrier was a wall of stone that was made to look like the result of a cave in. For a few fruitless moments he tried pulling on one of the rocks, but it was stuck fast.

"What are you doing?"

Darc struggled senselessly with the barrier for a few moments more before giving up. "Trying to get out of here, what does it look like?" he said rather scathingly. He began a methodical search of all the walls, hoping for a secret door or some other exit.

"I don't think we're going to get out of here until it lets us out." Kharg said, settling himself down next to the statue and resting against it, careful not to put any pressure on his wounded leg.

Darc didn't feel like responding, preferring to focus on his search.

"So what is this all about anyway?" The question hung in the air for long moments before it became obvious Darc wasn't going to answer. "You don't seem too happy about it."

"Like you can tell," Darc finally groused, and Kharg smiled secretly. At least he'd gotten Darc to talk to him.

"You're not very hard to read," the human continued archly, knowing it would incite his brother to continue. In truth, he wanted to know where he stood with Darc, and he couldn't do that if his twin wouldn't talk to him. He found it somewhat surprising that most of the ill will he usually reserved for Darc seemed to have disappeared. Maybe it had something to do with that shock he'd felt earlier…?

Darc snorted at his comment. "Neither are you," and he meant it. While he was unusually good at reading people for a deimos, the depth of empathy he had with Kharg was almost uncanny. They could finish each other's sentences and even pick up on emotions without needing to look. He knew they _could_ do it, but neither of them wanted to. This line of thought wasn't helping his resolve to ignore Kharg, and with a frown he returned to his task.

Kharg sighed as he felt his brother close up on him. So much for that; now all he had to occupy his mind was the insistent sting in his ankle and the howl of the wind whistling through the cracks at the entrance. Night was falling, and even shielded from the elements he could feel the cold seeping in through the walls. Thankfully he was dressed for it this time, though he couldn't say the same for Darc.

He twisted his head to glance at his twin. The deimos-hybrid had circled the room once already and found nothing useful, so instead he'd resorted to pacing, arms folded across his bare torso in a fruitless attempt to keep warm. From what little Kharg had pieced together from the rest of the Deimos team, Darc hailed from the humid swamplands of Aldrow. He was grossly underdressed for the weather of this continent, and Kharg felt a small stab of sympathy for him.

Half an hour passed in silence, without any indication that the Dragon Soul was going to return. The cave must have had some kind of shaft to let light in from above because it was now darkening in earnest. Before the magic of the cave had kept it a few degrees above zero, chilly but bearable. With the departure of the ancient spirit and the cold seeping in, it was now reaching a dangerous temperature for the unwary and the unprotected. Kharg slowly found his eyelids drooping closed before he caught himself, placing him in the former of those groups, while Darc personified the second, not having thought he would have to spend a night in the freezing tundra of Ragnoth.

Noticing that Darc was no longer shivering –a bad sign for it meant his body was no longer trying to fight off the cold– Kharg steeled his nerve and approached the still pacing Deimos. Not allowing himself to think about what he was doing, he shrugged off his coat and offered it to Darc.

"Take it," he said, not giving his brother a chance to object. When Darc just stared at him he continued, "I owe you. For the fight." This way Darc didn't have to admit a weakness, or feel like he owed Kharg a favour.

For a few moments he thought Darc might refuse it anyway, but eventually he tentatively took the coat. The Deimos considered it for a moment and looked down at himself, belatedly realising there was no way it would fit over his armour. With a long suffering sigh and a warning glance at Kharg, as if to say _Don't__ try anything_, he carefully undid the straps that held the breastplate in place.

As the armour slid away, Kharg looked on aghast as the expanse of flesh was revealed in all its wickedly scarred glory. Prominent white lashes striped Darc's tanned skin, all which had previously been hidden from view. Seeing the look Kharg was giving him, Darc scowled and turned away, exposing an even more interesting feature to Kharg's mind before it was covered by the coat.

"You… had wings," Kharg said, surprised. He'd thought Darc had been born without them like he had before that fateful day in Yewbell. He recognised the scaled stumps on Darc's back, having inspected his own with a mirror shortly after he'd torn off the unwanted limbs.

"Once," and for the first time Kharg heard an emotion other than anger in Darc's voice, a kind of melancholy that Kharg hadn't thought his twin capable of.

Kharg felt his hand creeping up to rest over the mark on his shoulder, "I pulled mine off after the whole town saw them grow out of my back." He glanced at Darc and saw that his twin had mirrored his action, human hand gripping his other arm where the birthmark would be. "Do they come back?"

Darc shrugged, not really pleased to have been so profoundly reminded of his past. The cold had seeped into his bones and even with the coat - still warmed by Kharg's body heat - he was having a hard time to stay focused. He felt tired, and could barely remember what had been so important that he needed to do. The only thing he could still feel was the empty ache that had returned with a vengeance, like a hunger he couldn't sate.

Though of course he did know how he could stop it, it was just that he didn't want to go there. He wasn't ready to give up his enmity to Kharg, and certainly not to the rest of humanity. Vengeance and hatred had brought him this far, it fuled his will to fight and made him stronger. Without strength he couldn't unite the Deimos, and he believed negative emotions were the only ones that gave power.

Of course, there was a small part of him that argued otherwise. Hadn't Windalf and Nafia faced the opposition of both their people to be together? Wasn't the strength of friendship and love equally important? The thought was entirely un-Deimos like, but then again Darc wasn't entirely Deimos anyway.

It suddenly occurred to him that his fathers' trial must have proceeded like this one had. How must it have been for his father, to find himself destined to join with one of the hated humans? Obviously something must have happened along the way, for what little Windalf had said about Nafia was always tainted by desperate longing and affection. Likewise, his mother had sounded remorseful when she'd heard of Windalf's death. Their bond wasn't just the resentful tie of their destiny, but something more powerful. Would he and Kharg share something like that? He pondered the thought briefly before disgustedly pushing it away He and his brother were too different, and Darc was determined to fight their destiny until the end.

Confused and angry, Darc finally settled against a wall, away from his brother. The sense of longing was welling up inside him again. Like an addict yearning for their long awaited fix, he knew all it would take was simple, physical contact to make the hunger go away. He got the feeling that if he were given even the slightest opportunity, he wouldn't be able to stop himself.

At first the hunger was just a solitary feeling because he couldn't place it in context without knowing what he was searching for. Now it had a whole crowd of baffling emotions attached to it, ones he wasn't sure he was ready to associate with Kharg. At first he had resented his brother; after all, his own heritage was blindingly obvious while Kharg looked completely human. Kharg had grown up as a respected prince with a parent to advise him, while he had been forced to work as Geedo's slave, orphaned and friendless. Such things were a matter of circumstance, however, and the more he got to know his brother the more he could see past the blinding wall of racism and self-pity.

In temperament, they were dynamic opposites. Kharg's easygoing nature hid an inner steely resolve, while Darc's angry determination was a cover-up for his softer, more emotional persona.

Like himself, Kharg believed he followed a higher duty. For the human it was about protecting his homeland and taking care of his friends, while for Darc it was all about uniting his species and the quest for strength, but the motivations were similar. The unfortunate fact was that perhaps they were _too_ similar. Both wanted the best for their respective species, and naturally that was going to bring them to strife unless concessions could be made.

His thoughts were momentarily interrupted when he noticed Kharg limping back to his previous position at the base of the statues. With crimson eyes that could still see perfectly in the near-total darkness, he could easily see that his twin was favouring one leg over the other. Darc closed his eyes in consternation, willing himself just to keep quiet and leave the human to his own devices.

But it was cold, and getting colder. The tantalising heat from Kharg's coat was only a sample of the warmth they could be sharing…Darc had to shake his head to banish the though. He tried to think of something else, tried to remember the feeling of rage he had once held for the human, but all his mind offered him was pleasent memories of his brother. Kharg fighting at his side in the flying castle; Kharg casting a healing spell to mend Darc's wounds; Kharg lunging into battle, sword twirling in practiced, graceful arcs; Kharg staring into space, firelight emphasising the striking golden streaks in his hair; Kharg laughing and carefree…

Part of him realised that his thoughts were straying towards his counterpart more often as that niggling feeling of longing grew and it raged it's frustration in a darkened corner of his mind. Another part was growing to realise it cared less and less about his flimsy reasons of why he was holding back, and plagued him with the ghostly remembrance of how it had felt when his skin had connected with Kharg's. It had been painful at first, but the shock had quickly melted into a pleasant sensation of calm that had soothed his troubled mind.

So wouldn't it be better if he just gave in now before his tattered dignity was completely overruled by desire? Later on, he would realise that his rationalisation was rather flawed, but in his defence his mind hadn't been exactly clear at the time he'd some up with it. Before he could gather the will to resist, his body had already gotten to its feet and carried him to his twin's side.

Kharg looked up in momentary confusion as Darc settled himself beside him, careful that their skin didn't actually connect. The deimos wasn't sure he'd be able to restrain himself if he let that happen again, and despite this temporary concession he wasn't ready to go that far.

Yet…

"We'll keep warmer this way," was all Darc offered by way of explanation, careful to keep his expression neutral. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kharg hesitate - one hand rising from his lap as if he wanted to reach out to his brother – but then the moment passed and Kharg settled back, trying to make himself comfy against the stone base of the statue.

"Whatever you say." The human's voice held a hint of bemusement that Darc didn't like, but at least he didn't question further.

Their close proximity was enough to keep the crawling emptiness at bay, and with the warmth of Kharg's body seeping into his side, Darc unwillingly felt his eyes grow leaden as he body suddenly remembered how much sleep he'd been missing.

"Don't try anything while I'm asleep," he managed to mutter in a voice thickened with exhaustion before slumber overcame him.

Kharg felt Darc's body relax against him, and was unable to suppress a smile that he didn't quite understand before he too was taken by sleep.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Some time later, in the ungodly, early hours of the morning by Darc's guess, the deimos was awakened by the slightest stirring in the air that indicated the Dragon Soul's return. He distantly noted that Kharg had leaned over in his sleep until his head rested lightly on Darc's shoulder, an almost angelic expression on his face. Darc forced himself to scowl and look away, berating himself for the rather fanciful description of his twin. Instead he chose to focus his displeasure on the architect of this whole mess.

"It's about time you got back," Darc spoke acidly to the empty air. Even though he couldn't turn to face the carving without disturbing Kharg, he knew the Dragon could hear him.

"Some things proceed better without interference," the familiar voice replied with obvious smugness. "I'm surprised though, you're further along than I expected. It took Windalf almost two days before he would even look at his mate. I assumed you would also be unnecessarily stubborn."

Darc sighed, suddenly too tired to deliver the harsh tirade he'd planned. Kharg's presence was luring him insistently back to sleep. He couldn't imagine what it had been like for his father - for his parents – to have been trapped here for days with the unquenchable longing stretching between them. He'd only been able to hold out a few scant hours…

"I notice you haven't bothered to inform him of his new status," the Soul stated conversationally. Somehow Darc knew that no matter how long or loud it talked, his twin wouldn't wake up.

"New status?" Darc echoed, his mind slowed by exhaustion.

"As your mate," the Dragon continued blithely, as though it were a certain fact. "And as the co-leader of the Drakyr."

"He's not my mate," Darc said, though his voice lacked any real conviction.

The Soul was blessedly silent for a moment before replying. "I see." If Darc hadn't known better, he would have sworn there was an edge of gleefulness to its voice. "Maybe you aren't as far along as I thought. Still, you shall both understand in due time."

He could feel the presence ebbing from the room as it retreated back to whatever afterlife had spawned it. "I'll release you in the morning." The whisper was barely distinguishable over the roaring wind outside, and then the Soul was gone, leaving the Darc to his own silent contemplations.

He looked down at his twin, his expression softening of its own violation. He didn't honestly know how he would explain it all to Kharg, or even if he wanted to. He was still half hoping that the soul was wrong and things could go back to the way they'd been before…

…But the longer he sat there, Kharg's body moulded comfortably against his own, the more the hope faded back into the depths of his mind. For better or for worse, they were stuck together for the moment. And, as Kharg shifted slightly in his sleep, bringing a sleekly muscled arm to rest around Darc's waist, he wondered if it was really such a terrible fate.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Fin…for now.


End file.
